The Weird Ones
by ManitaMuerte
Summary: Neil hasn't had the best childhood, so he's not the most well adjusted person on the planet. Neither is Alice - The new farmer who just moved into town. They have a lot in common; maybe too much. They've been treated like outcasts their whole lives. Finding a kindred spirit in one another, an unorthodox friendship starts to bloom.
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N:_ Dear readers. I owe you an apology. I have abandoned this work for over two years, and I feel as though I should explain myself. **

**First things first: The laptop I wrote this story on ended up dying on me, and I lost half of this story and about twenty-odd chapters of the sequel I planned. Then, shortly thereafter, I broke up with my now ex-boyfriend of three years - which was, in short, devastating. What does this have to do with abandoning this work? Well, I largely based much of the 'flavor' of interactions between these two with my own personal experience, and continuing to write them was painful. In short - I had to take a break. I lost a lot of work and wasn't really happy to have to start all over, and then I wasn't in the mood to write happy/dorky-couples. But I'm in a much better place now. I've matured a lot and my writing has improved. I really loved this story, and now I'm ready to come back to it. **

**That being said, I wanted to clean it up - streamline in, improve it, edit it, chop up parts of it, and make it better than it is. I hope you like what I've done so far. **

* * *

Scowling deeply at the man who interrupted my sleep, I willed Dunhill to disappear by the sheer power of my stare. Unfortunately it didn't work. He stayed on my doorstep, smiling cheerfully and bid me 'good-morning.' I grunted a greeting back, rubbing my eyes free of sleep.

"...So, what do you want, old man?" I grumbled, opening the door a little wider so that I could see his whole face. He moved forward as if that was an invitation inside, but I moved into the narrow space so he didn't get any more stupid ideas.

"The rancher we've been expecting arrived a few days ago, while you were out of town." He answered, smiling - crooked teeth xanthous with old tobacco stains from his younger days. I simply stared, expecting more explanation, but receiving nothing but silence in return.

"...And?"

"You should say hello! They're around your age, and it's always good to feel welcomed in a new place, don't you think?" Silence fell between us again as I squinted at him in the morning light.

"...You're joking, right? You woke me up at the crack of dawn to suggest to me to say 'howdy' to our new neighbor? After I _just_ got back from a long trip of visiting my parents for the New Year? After _just_ arriving a few hours ago? You woke me up...For _that_?" Dunhill's smile faltered a little.

"No, not really. I actually have a _little_ favor to ask of you, Neil." He squished his fingers close together to show _just_ how small the favor he was about to ask me to do was. I waited for him to continue. "Here - " He dug into his old-smoke-and-mothballs smelling jacket, scrounging up a bag of coin. "I want you to take a nice cow over to them and introduce yourself. It'll be good for your business, and they need all the help they can get. Think of it as a welcoming gift." He shoved the money into my hand and I stared down at it. I blinked a few times, trying to wrap my sleep-deprived brain around what he was asking.

"So, let me get this straight: ...You want me...On my day off...To go down to the ranch...Pick out a cow...And bring it to the new farmhand? On my _day off_? And you're asking me this at five o' clock in the morning...?" I stared at him like he was stupid. The old man meant well, but couldn't this have waited until I was, say - _on the job_ or at the very least, later?

"Yes." He answered. "I didn't think it would be such a difficult task."

"It's not difficult, I'm just wondering _why_ I _should_ do such a thing? Other than the fact that you're paying me and I need the money." He opened his mouth to speak, but I spoke faster. "Face it, Dunhill - the town is on it's last leg. Hell, the last leg broke a long time ago, and now we're just barely hobbling along. I know you love it here, but I was talking with my folks - and I think it's high time we cut our losses and leave while we still can. That includes that farmhand." He pursed his lips, mouth a thin line.

"...I'm not going to give up. Just do as I ask...Please? I think this new person could help us out. Kick-start the economy again, encourage new business. _Trust me_. Have I ever let you down?"

"Other than convincing me to open up shop in this Goddess-forsaken place?" His face twisted into a pained expression and I instantly felt bad. I had gone too far in my morning grumpiness. "...That was unkind of me, and I apologize." I added awkwardly, "I know the town's decay has been hard on all of us, most of all you. You have never let me down. You're a good man, Dunhill. If you have a gut-feeling about this, then I believe you." I clutched the coin-purse to my chest and he seemed to cheer up considerably.

"Then you'll do it?"

"...Yes. Of course. Just - I'm going to make it clear this is a gift from _you_, not from me. I don't want to give the new farmhand any false hope. But I'll do this for you - as a favor."

"Good." He beamed, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. "I _do_ have good feeling about this. You'll see. We all have to do the best we can or this place will fall apart."

"...I know. I'll...Try." And with that I shut the door.

* * *

I had chosen a cow with a gentle demeanor and hearty constitution in case the farmhand proved to be as incompetent as I expected them to be. I did not trust some random city-dweller to know how to take care of animals and wholly anticipated them to understand agricultural maintenance as the sum of incorrect interpretations deigned from cowboy-prairie-house movies and novels. For them to believe in the simple joys of homesteading as romanticized by authors and screenwriters utterly unfamiliar with the toil and hardship and _commitment_ necessary to such a life.

So the cow was chosen and I was back in town with her just past eight sharp, thinking of all the things I would say to the new farmhand when I arrive at their place. I practiced various scripts in my head, going off of previous experiences. I'd introduce myself, tell them what I did for a living - then say the cow I was presenting them was a gift from Dunhill.

I was not generally good with people - having been dubbed an 'introvert' at a very young age. I liked being alone, even as a child - and spent much of my time interacting with all sorts of wildlife in the stead of other children. Had Dunhill not been a friend to my previous employer, I would have flat-out refused to undertake such an excruciating task. It was physically taxing for me to socialize with any other human being for any amount of time.

The land gifted to this new neighbor included all the area south of the town proper until it met the sea. It was a very large plot - more than any _experienced_ farmer knows what to do with appropriately, let alone have time to manage _alone_. It was easy to see that whoever undertook this land by decree of inheritance was in-over their heads. I did not pity them - only wished that I did not have to subject what I considered to be _my_ livestock to their inevitable short-comings.

The truth was - I did not expect this person to stay for longer than a season, let alone the whole year. It would be a miracle if they decided to even stay the week, what with the town all but abandoned and barren. The town itself was once quiet - but relatively prosperous even without a major attraction or economical importance to the city close by. Then the economic down-shift happened, and shop-owners looked to greener pastures and left. Every absence gouged the economy further, and so more kept leaving, which created a viscous cycle that ultimately turned the once idealistic small village into a ghost town.

Surely someone from the city could not handle the absence of street-lights, let alone the luxury of specialty stores. There was the general store, of course - but prices were not great due to the scarcity of suppliers willing to come this way, nor did it have much in variety of stock in the first place.

I was wary of the new outsider for other reasons as well - I personally looked after and selected my stock, which made me very precise in my requirements of ownership. Dunhill had essentially asked me to choose an animal for a person I had never even met - and I was wary about their intentions, to boot. Was this guy (- as most assuredly it was, as the inheritance was rumored to be for _first-born-sons_ to the family they hailed from -) doing this to increase their hobby list? Or perhaps they thought it would be a nice 'project' to putter around with? A summer-home renovation as opposed to Dunhill's hope of permanent residency? As it was, I had no idea what this man's temperament was. He could _hate_ manual labor and animals for all I knew and was simply here to check out his inheritance. It was more likely that he would sell it by the piece to someone else, who would then in turn let it sit and overgrow with weeds.

The whole situation did not sit well with me, leaving a bad-taste in my mouth. My livestock were not just _things_ to have for a time and then return. The stress alone of moving and securing them in a new place was rough enough as it was. Dunhill was asking me to do something I did not particularly agree with - and the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to back out of it.

Unfortunately, I found myself at the entrance to the farm by the time I had made that decision and ultimately decided that I had wasted my morning enough without also backing down from my favor to Dunhill.

I pulled the cow haphazardly down the dirt road, mud-filled potholes making the trip unnecessarily hazardous for my animal. Tending to a broken-legged cow was not how I wanted the rest of my day to go.

When I came upon the farmland proper, I was surprised to see it in such a dilapidated condition. I heard that Dunhill had made an effort to repair some of the more major damage, but it still looked - for lack of a better word- abandoned. It wasn't _uninhabitable,_ but it wasn't pretty either. Peeling, chipped paint was the unifying theme to all the present buildings. As for the house itself: There were pieces of the siding that needed to be replaced, parts of the roof that needed to be re-shingled, steps and porch railings that needed to be repaired. The windows and doors were open, airing out the musty-smell of long-abandoned furnishments and dusty floors. Various boxes labeled things like KITCHEN and CLOTHES were littered around the front yard, some stacked two or three high.

The screens of said doors and windows were in bad shape and needed to be replaced. Smaller aesthetic imperfections dotted the rest of the lawn, such as overgrown bushes and weed-choked flowerbeds. I could see that the place had once been stately and nice - but disuse had made it looked incredibly aged and...Almost haunted looking. Feeling uneasy, my eyes swept the premises for the new face and realized no one was outside - at least, not where I could see. I tried moving around a bit, straining my neck and standing on my tip-toes to see over the boxes. Not a soul was in sight, nor was there any sign of life.

I frowned deeply, not wanting to have to call out to someone whose name I did not know. I also did not like to raise my voice - it made me feel larger than I was, and that in it's own right was dizzying. I only liked to take up the space I occupied and nothing more. A loud voice was boisterous - invading. I wanted to be small, unnoticed and un-bothered.

The sudden loud sound of pots and pans falling spooked me, though my charge was unphased and simply swatted early spring flies with her swishing tail. A shout of dismay echoed from within the house, and I instantly felt the urge to just _run_ \- leave the cow and forget introducing myself. _A person was here._ Of course there was another person here. That's the idea. Introductions and whatnot. _But I don't know them. I have no idea how to act, what to say! _A sudden anxiety wracked my very core and I stood frozen in space - lead gripped tight in my white-knuckled hand. More shuffling, but I didn't see anyone.

_Breathe._

Remember what you practiced? Just say that and nothing more.

_But what if they don't follow the script?_ I ask myself.

Then figure something _else_ out to say! Easy, right?

...No.

This was excruciatingly painful and far too social for eight in the morning.

Right. What had I said? Introduce myself, tell them about my job, make sure to say the cow was Dunhill's idea. Then I planned on asking about their knowledge of animals. I'd ask if they knew how to properly care for bovines, to which they'd probably say no, because this guy was probably some stupid city-slicker who had no idea how to care for anything larger than a small dog or gerbil. I mean, what made Dunhill think they were ready for this kind of thing anyway?

I gritted my teeth. This was a bad idea, and I hated myself for being so nice and agreeing to do this for Dunhill. This was also to the expense of the well-being of an animal that had been in my care.

I moved closer to the front door, around the boxes - pulling the cow along with me, lead slack as I peeked around the cardboard towers obstructing my view. A flash of black caught my eye, and then a woman popped out from behind a three-box high box tower, startling me.

"Hello! Good morning!" She greeted cheerfully, wild black curls falling around her round face in cascades of chaos. I blinked once, twice, then stammered out stupidly -

"You're a woman -?"Idiot.

"Last time I checked, yes." She smiled, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. "So. Aren't you going to say good morning back? It'd be awfully rude if you don't." She stared expectantly at me.

"...Good morning." I said, once I'd gathered myself a bit more.

"So..Who are you? What's your story? Is that for me?" She gestured to the cow at the end of my lead, and I couldn't help myself from saying:

"No. It's my pet. I walk her every morning." In the most dead-panned, serious voice. She blinked, then her smile spread into a grin. She tucked her chin against her shoulder, a mischievous look in her gaze.

"...Are you..._Serious_? I think I'll be greatly disappointed if you're joking."

"I am. Obviously." I say, frowning. I didn't think she _actually_ thought I was being serious, but I answered her nevertheless. She shrugged apathetically.

"I knew it was too good to be true." She said, and her hand shot out to touch the cow's snout. Her expression softened once she made contact with the animal. I stood static, unsure of what to do with myself. "...Soooo," Her red gaze shifted to me once more, but her posture and hand remained - "Besides taking your...'Pet bovine' out for it's morning walk - " She says this with a slight smirk - "What else are you doing skulking around my property in the wee hours of the morning?"

"I wasn't skulking." I answer, though in the very next moment I realize she was joking. I try to recover. "...I'm Neil. I'm the local Animal Dealer. You'll most likely be buying your livestock from me in the coming weeks, so Dunhill thought we should get acquainted."

"Ah. I know who you are. Dunhill's told me some about you." I didn't say anything about that, but I was very curious about what kind of lies and stupid things the elders of the town had said about me behind my back while I was gone. I could barely hear her next question because I was too busy screaming internally. "So you brought me a whole cow as a gift?" She asked, eyes flickering back to the cow. Her hand moved further up the bovine's head, black-painted nails gently scratching along the bridge of her snout. "Of course, _not_ as opposed to a _partial_ cow. I'm definitely not saying that would have been preferred. In fact, I would have considered it quite horrific - unless packaged prettily in deli-paper; But even then: It would have been quite the unfortunate gift from a man who makes his living of selling said creatures in their..._Living_ state. I mean, what sort of message would that have attached to it? Not a good one, I'd say." She smirks, eyes never leaving the cow's face.

"_Dunhill_ bought it." I answer, flabbergasted by her strange ramble. " - I'm just the guy who had to physically bring it." She moved away from the cow, resting her hands on her hips.

"Ah. I see. Well that was nice of him." She said, a studious eye taking in my countenance. I was still, nervous under her scrutinizing gaze. She was _pretty_ by any standard, but her piercing eyes caused me to feel some type of way. I was keenly aware of every small movement she made - nervous prey watching a predator size it up. Then her gaze left me entirely, and it felt like I could breathe again. "I guess I can show you to the barn. I haven't finished patching it up, but soon it'll look better." She gestured with her head the direction I should go, then I followed her to her pastures. The fence needed repairing and possibly a new paint-job -

"Just leave her to feed in the field. I'll have some high-content grain for her soon to mix in to her diet. I have a shipment coming in through your company scheduled to arrive by next week via catalog. I grabbed one when I went to visit the facilities a few days ago. I hope my lack of preparation doesn't put you off to my housing her. I promise I'll have the barn up and running soon, it's just - this place is a lot more work than I was anticipating."

I gleaned several important facts from this.

1.) She visited the facilities to do her homework on the company and spec it out.

2.) She was somewhat more knowledgeable than I had anticipated on the finer details of livestock rearing.

3.) She was apparently versed in moderate-level architecture repair, suggesting knowledge of tools and carpentry.

4.) She took initiative to prepare for animal rearing.

And they all surprised me to the point of being stunned. This woman was small - she looked so - _So unlike what I pictured in my head. _I felt a bit stupefied, on top of internally humiliated at my own assumptions.

I was stunned into silence for a few moments, and she looked a little confused. I didn't know what to comment on first, but eventually I shook myself free of my daze, then asked: "So...You're making repairs all by yourself?"

"Well, who else is there?" She shrugged, curls bouncing along her collar bone. Her tone did not suggest the question was intended as bait to goad me into offering my assistance, and in fact sounded a bit incredulous. "The town isn't in great shape as it is, in case you haven't noticed - but I'm sure you have. I mean, who is going to help me? _Hana_?" She laughed boisterously at the foolish suggestion, but sobered quickly. "And besides: This is my burden to bear. It's my land, my buildings. I actually like having so much to do."

"...Will you have enough time to take care of - " I gestured with the lead in my hand to the cow. She looked me straight in the eye.

"I will make time. She'll be a priority." She answered. I was satisfied with such an attitude, but still worried about her possible lack of experience. I led the cow into her pasture and unclasped the lead, winding it around my hand.

"...So...Uh - " I felt like an idiot for not asking for her name earlier.

"_Alice_." She said, filling in the blank. "I'm Alice." She smiled a dazzlingly bright smile and I felt my heart jump in my throat. I noticed the way her eyes flicked up at the corners, like a cat's, lined with thick black lashes.

"Uh, I'm Neil -" I stammered, momentarily stunned by her. I immediately inwardly winced - _Idiot!_ "I already said that, didn't I?" I ask, sheepishly.

"You did." Her smile widens, like she just _knows_ I'm weak and she has the upper-hand. "I believe this is the part where we shake hands and say 'nice to meet you.'"

"Is it?" I question, actually wondering if that is _indeed_ what normal people did in this situation.

"-Unless it was actually rather horrible to meet me. I wouldn't be offended if you said so, just seek to remedy it. I did, after all, scare you by popping out from behind some boxes. Sometimes i forget how short I really am. I did like the girlish squeak you made, however."

"I didn't - " I bit my tongue on that. Denying it made me sound defensive."Well...You _are_ rather short." I add absently, trying to re-orient myself in the conversation. I realized that was not the correct way. Repeating what someone had just said was a way to show one was listening, but my usage of the tactic had backfired. "...I - I'm sorry, I - "

"No, you're right." She seems unphased by my blundering and clasps her hands behind her back. She fixes me beneath her crimson gaze once more, looking as pleased as 'the cat who ate the canary -' as my mother would say. "You're a weird one, Neil. I think I like you."

I honestly don't know how to respond to such a blatant confession.

"You've just met me." I say, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. "I'm actually quite intolerable, the more you get to know me." My eyes take in her outfit - a black shirt that looks like an x-ray of her ribs and spine, and black cut-off shorts. Her black socks hit just below her knee and beneath that - chunky black sneakers. She looks like a front-line girl from a band I would have listened to as an angsty teenager - or maybe a grown-up groupie of a band I would listen to now as an admittedly angsty adult.

"I think you'll find I'm a very good judge of character, Neil." She says nonchalantly. "I hope to see you around some more." And with that she casts me another grin, this time coupled with a wink. I frown in response, believing she is playing a game with me. I say nothing, but bid her farewell as politely as I know how and leave the farm.

* * *

I had just sat down to dinner before I heard a knock at the door. I cursed under my breath as I stomped over to answer it. Half-expecting the rancher to be on my doorstep. Instead - it was Dunhill.

"Howdy. Good evenin', Neil. I trust you completed the task I asked?" I grunted in affirmative, peeking out from the crack in my door. "So - how did it go?" He looked at me expectantly, eyebrows raised and expression open.

"It went well. The cow didn't spontaneously explode, which was decidedly fortunate, but I'm sure you'll be disappointed to know that our new neighbor did not weep with joy at your generous gift. Now, if that's all - I'll get back to my dinner - " I tried to close the door but Dunhill extended his arm inside my home to stop me. I stared at his offending limb with undisguised distaste.

"I just have a few more questions-" He spoke hurriedly, slightly flustered.

"There's nothing more to tell." I said, glaring up at him. "She said thank you for the gift, and we parted ways."

"Oh?" He seemed pleased. "What a nice young lady."

"Yeah. I wish you would have told me about that."

"What?"

"That the farmhand was a woman." I crossed my arms.

"Ah." He gave me a strange look. "Did you like her?"

_Oh._

I exploded. "Is _that_ the real reason you sent me!?"

"No, no - " Dunhill's blotchy face reddened. "It's just - you and her are near the same age, and the ladies and I were talking earlier, and - "

"Dunhill, I don't need you and 'the ladies' to play matchmaker. You know that I'm not interested in - " I said the next word as if it were a dirty and repulsive - "_Dating_." We were silent, his eyes wide and mine narrowing further as the seconds ticked by. I didn't say what I was thinking, biting my tongue against a low jab to the man's pride - _Especially not an ex-city-dweller who would probably be gone by this time next year._

"Well no, I know that, but - You're a _young man _and you're bound to- "

"Really, thanks for thinking of me, but I'm _fine_." I say, through gritted teeth. He looks dubious. "I'm _totally_ okay, alright? You _know_ I moved here to do my _job_ and that's all I intend to do." I gave him a slightly pained look, seeing how crestfallen he had become. "...For as long as possible." And with that I shut the door in his face.


	2. Chapter 2

I stepped outside of my home to get some fresh air - deciding that a walk to the river or maybe even some quiet time in the forest was needed. I had a stressful week at work - things seemed to be going for the worst; an illness swept the ranch and the administration was doing its best to supply the team of veterinarians with what they needed to combat it. It had spread to some of my charges, which was not good. At the least of my worries it made my head ache to think of the paperwork I'd have to fill out. And even then - the stress of quarantining animals used to open grazing didn't help my mood either. A necessary evil.

As I walked down the path towards the river, I could hear Hana and Emma speaking among themselves. The women spoke rather loudly and animatedly, so it was difficult to refrain from over-hearing.

"She's definitely very much unlike what I thought she'd be like. I was hoping for - I don't know, a cute young thing with blonde hair and blue eyes, bright and cheery - you know? I didn't figure..._That_ kind of person would be drawn to a place like this, you know?" Interestingly enough, she wished for her own daughter to be bright and cheery. Maybe Emma was hoping that she could somehow supplement one young woman for the other as her surrogate daughter. You know, dote on _her_ because Yuri was not what she had hoped for.

"Now...Dear, you know you shouldn't be so judgmental. That Neil fellow has always been respectful and hard-working, despite what sort of strange outfits he wears. You shouldn't judge a book by its cover. The poor dear has been very busy repairing the homestead since she got here and hasn't had much time to come visit in town. Give her some time - it's only been two weeks."

"Oh, Hana, I know! Don't get me wrong, I'm _all_ for self expression. Well, you know: Yuri didn't turn out the way I hoped, but I still love her and respect her decision to be a seamstress." That's funny, because I remember she belly-ached about it to me the first chance she got. I ignored her ramble and she never spoke of it again, but she made many of passive-aggressive comments about it ever since.

"Yes, I'm sure." Hana said, sounding just as disbelieving as_ I_ was. She was a kind old woman, but she didn't take anything from anybody. I liked that about her.

"Yes. Yuri got that crafty talent from her momma, after all!" Emma sounded like she was smiling when she said that, but then she paused thoughtfully. "But that Alice? The death...Stuff? With all the...Bones and skulls and the other creepy..Stuff? I don't know about all that. Even Neil just sticks to his dark clothes and that jacket. Something isn't quite _right_ about that girl. Anyone who likes that kind of stuff must be a little sick or depressed. She might be nice and respectful, but - I don't know, that still gives me pause." The older woman scoffed.

"Emma, Give her a chance. That's all Dunhill is asking from us. I'm too old to leave here, so all I_ have_ is hope. Can't you just be nice? She's obviously working very hard."

"No. I know. And you're right - I could never leave this place either. I grew up here! I met my husband here. He's buried here. Yuri left, but maybe I can convince her to return after she's done with school." She clucked her tongue. "...It's just - I'm just being cautious, that's all."

I rounded the corner and the two ladies waved cheerfully, as if they hadn't been talking about me moments before. "Good evening, Neil!" Hana called out, smiling politely.

"Good evening, ma'am." I nodded gruffly, shoving my hands into my pockets. The plump woman beside her cast me a forced smile in return, her face turning whiter than usual.

"Neil! How are you? How's business?" Emma asked, pushing her voice to be as polite as Hana's.

"Slow as ever." I grunted, passing by them. "You know that. Ain't no business here at all."

"Things will turn up soon, I'm sure." She pressed, her optimism almost over-bearing.

"You've been saying that for six months, Emma." I retorted.

"Then it's bound to happen sooner than later!" She laughed, her smile becoming a tiny bit more genuine. I shrugged, hitching my shoulders up and letting them fall in a noncommittal gesture.

"Hope you're right."

"Y'all have a good night, now." Emma called after me. Hana returned her sentiments. I made a gesture with my hand, as if to shoo away her good-wishes. like the words were flies to be swatted.

* * *

I squinted against the bright afternoon sun, using my free hand to shield my eyes. "What?" I repeated, eyes trying to focus on the woman on the roof. She looked like a black and white blur against the sparsely clouded sky, the sun framing her in blinding light.

"I said: Just put the ladder back against the wall!" She called down, cupping her hands around her mouth to act as a megaphone. I frowned, hoisting the bag of chicken feed up higher on my shoulder. "...Please?" She added. I grumbled to myself, bending down to set the bag on the ground, then moved over to where the wooden ladder had fallen.

Alice made it three weeks longer than I had expected - earning her a..._Modicum_ of respect from me, but not much else. She _was_, however, making good progress. The barn had minor repairs done to it, and she made suitable fixes to the chicken coop as well. From her savings, she had bought a companion cow and two chickens since we had last spoken. I had just come by to drop off an order of feed she had placed yesterday, and that was when she called down to me from her roof.

Placing the ladder against the side of her home, she yelled down a breathless thanks and began her descent. I looked away as her legs swung over the rungs, and soon she was beside me. "I've been up there all morning, seems like. Didn't want to risk spraining an ankle jumping from the roof. It was a freak gust of wind or something - I'm glad you came by."

I made a noise to show that I had been listening, but not necessarily as a response.

"I mean, I knew you were coming by, so - ah, anyways, thanks." She said, stretching her limbs. She waited for me to add something, but I didn't. We were silent."...You're not very talkative, are you?"

"No." I answered, picking up the bag of feed. "Now, do you want this placed against the outside of your coop or -?" It was my turn to wait in silence. It was a little awkward.

"...Yes, please." She narrowed her eyes at me. "So, do you have a problem with me, or something?" I kept my face stone.

"Ma'am - you'll find I have a problem with everybody. It's nothing personal." I said, then bent to pick up the sizable bag of feed from the ground. I felt her eyes on me the whole time I completed my task - but she never once commented on what I had said. At least, not until after my job was done. I straightened, and suddenly she was there beside me.

"...You're like a grumpy old man trapped in a young guy's body." She said, twisting her pretty face into a discerning expression. "...Yeah, that's about right."

"What?"

"You heard me." She lifted her chin up. "So what's the story? What's up with that?"

"That's really none of your business." I shrugged in response, then turned to step onto the path off of her farm.

When I had gotten far enough from her, she shouted after me: "I'll figure you out yet, Neil. And don't call me _ma'am_! I'm _Alice_ \- not an old lady!"

Another conversation ended with a dismissive wave.

* * *

Alice had been working on the farm for a month and a half, and it showed. In addition to the architectural repairs, she had also managed to clear a small area and began working on her fields. Some small sprouts had already began to shoot up from the dusty grown when I next visited her.

She had taken it upon herself to begin chatting to me every chance she got. At first it was annoying, but once I realized she was doing it to ease any worry I had for the animals I put into her care, it stopped being so much of a chore. Alice kept me up to date on the health and welfare of her animals, coming to me when she had a question about their usual behavior and demeanor. It was actually a little refreshing to have a customer so intentional about the well-being of their charges, but of course - I would not tell her that to her face.

Even so, there had been more than one occasion that I simply wandered down to her pasture to make sure things were going well - though I tried not to make myself obvious or at worst intrusive. As such, I tried to time my random check-ups when she would not see me - or she would be too busy to notice me. I didn't want her to think that I was there for _her_.

There was something textbook to the way she scheduled her life - and by extension, her livestock's lives. I observed large charts written in chalk, cataloging important dates and smaller hand-written books discussing in short-hand the daily report of her charges. It was strange how logical and formatted everything was - things that I took for granted growing up on a farm she had somehow transcribed on paper. Things to look for like sheen of feathers or the quality of eyes on sight, both things I had been trained from a young age to simply _see_ but never been told outright as indicators of health, and here she had it all down in an organized report.

Of course, I didn't dwell or even make it a habit. It was just something that happened two or three times. I was satisfied with her procedure and it negated any reason to move forward with any casual investigation of her farm. Her progress was actually a little staggering. What once was a ghostly looking estate had begun to show signs of life. Dunhill was intolerable in his smugness about the whole thing, though her presence had changed little so far.

There was something to be said about his gut feeling. Although she and I rarely crossed paths - even with her intentional chats about her animals - I saw her always _in motion_. It was like she never stopped. If she wasn't cloistered on her farm, she was fishing or gathering materials from the wilds of the outskirts of town. She was always _busy_ \- and I respected that about her.

More weeks passed, and by the first signs of summer she had completed renovations to her land. Everything was freshly painted, lacquered, and she even patched the walkways with grey stone. Buildings looked relatively new - and the farmhouse was rejuvenated. I was impressed by her work ethic, in the very least.

"That isn't even where I want to stop. I have so many ideas and plans for this place that it isn't even funny - " She said, leaning against the side of her house. I had stopped by to drop off supplies she had ordered and she had been speaking to me about her new home. "I want to focus on the town itself, though, for now. Dunhill has plans that I think are great, and since I'm the only able-bodied person with enough free-time to tackle the job, why not?"

I rarely asked questions or spoke out of turn with her as our relationship remained strictly professional in nature up until this point, but I couldn't help but wonder out loud: "Do you really think that you can fix up the whole town?"

She frowned at me, though not because she was displeased with the question. It was more of a thinking gesture she made when she considered something in her head. "...Well, why not? What's stopping me?" I studied her face for a moment, then made a point to find the siding of her home far more interesting.

"I suppose that's one way to look at it. Very optimistic." She shrugged at that.

"Well, it's the truth, isn't it?" I didn't answer that. _Circumstance_ could very well stop her, but who was I to dash such grandiose notions away?

* * *

Summer came and went quick as a flash. I saw Alice more in town, though not by much. She was constructing something with Dunhill. I almost pitied her when I saw her up high in the afternoon summer sun, hammering away. She was so pale I was surprised I never saw her sunburned. She was _very_ quick at what she was doing, though - and it seemed like only _days _(As opposed to weeks) would pass before a building was almost completed - though I'm sure that was a bit of an exaggeration on my part.

Soon enough, a woman and her snot-nosed kid and a blacksmith moved in. The blacksmith moved into a previously constructed home, but the woman and her child had moved into the recently built cottage. Soon after, a hairstylist from the city moved into town, much to the delight of the women. His shop had also been built by Alice. I never knew how she really found the time.

She somehow saved enough money from her harvest to buy some more chickens (two, to be precise) and two sheep. Sometimes, when she was taking a break - I saw her reading books about yarn-making, which was a little amusing. Imagine, if you will - a wide-eyed girl with entirely strange clothes reading a book about agricultural studies, sitting on a stump.

Begrudgingly, I had to admit that Dunhill had been right. At least, a little bit. He was beside himself with joy at the slight pick-up of business, but I knew we were nowhere near to where we had to be.

There was a long road ahead for the town, and at the helm was Alice.


	3. Chapter 3

The words were tumbling out of my mouth before I could scarcely think them through. "Do you need a hand with those?"

Internally, I cursed myself - but they were out, and I couldn't take them back. To my dismay, she smiled at me in response.

"Yes! Can you take ten? I'll take the other ten." Begrudgingly, I scooped the small bags of treats into my arms and followed her down the path to her farm. I saw from the corner of my eye that she glanced at me curiously. We were silent for a while, walking down the path, until finally she spoke up:"...So, grumpy, what's with the niceties? I bet you're just curious about the rumours."

"...Rumours?" I frowned. "You think I have an ulterior motive for helping you? Is that the kind of guy you think I am?"

She shrugged.

"Honestly, I couldn't say _what_ kind of guy you are, Neil. We don't really speak personally that often. I defintitely don't see you as a man who helps just for the good karma, though." I didn't really expect her to have respond to that, so I didn't really have an answer for her.

"...I don't even know what rumours you're referencing." Is what I _said_. I had a lot of feelings swirling around. Did I really come off as so rude as to not seem like the sort of person who would help for the sake of it? Well. It wasn't so far from the truth. In reality, I asked as a knee-jerk response, I didn't actually think she'd say _yes_, nor did I _actually_ want to help -

"No?" She returned, pulling me from my thoughts. "Huh. Wow, you really _are_ a hermit. Don't you know the old saying: _News Travels Fast In Small Towns_?" She veered closer, arm brushing mine. I could feel the chill of her touch even through my coat jacket.

I shifted awkwardly, trying to distance myself from her brief contact. "...I do know that saying, but what does that have to do with anything? I'm not interested in rumours whatsoever. They're petty, and often untrue."

"I didn't say you were interested - But that doesn't mean you aren't _curious_."

"That doesn't make any - "

"- Do you wanna hear, or not?" She huffed. I looked at her as we slowed nearly to a crawl, then glanced at the long path to her farm.

"...Sure, if it will make you pick up the pace. I gotta get back to my shop." She stared at me for a moment, then rolled her eyes.

"Fine, fine." We moved at a normal speed, and she continued to talk. "So, you know the hairdresser that just moved into town?" At first, I thought it was a hypothetical question, but when she didn't continue I realized she had wanted me to answer. I wracked my brain for an appropriate response.

"...Uh...Vaugely." I answered, brow furrowing with effort. "I've met him the once, when he introduced himself. I don't visit the hairdresser, so we haven't spoken since."

"No? You never get your hair trimmed?"

"No. I - I uh, I cut my own hair." She peered up at my hair briefly, then looked back at my face. I stared hard at the road in front of us, trying not to squirm under her sudden focused attention.

"...That explains a lot."

"Hm?" I cut my gaze across her, and she seemed to stiffen.

"No, no, nothing bad! Just - Well, I cut my own hair too. It's a very particular style, and I like it just so." She let a lock of it fall across her shoulder and I pulled my gaze away. "...I noticed that about you, too. It's very...Different. Definitely not mainstream."

"Mm." I grunted, making an effort to seem at least a bit interested. I was not. Was she trying to say my hair looked stupid, or something?

"-Anyway - guy's name is Allen. The older folks think we should date because we've chatted, like, twice. I think someone started spouting conjecture about that, and it's this big thing now. It's actually kind of funny. I don't even particularly like the guy - and he doesn't seem to care for _me_ all that much, either."

...What was she trying to imply, here?

"...And what makes you think that I would care to hear about that?"

She frowned, suddenly. "I'm just making friendly conversation, Neil. I wasn't trying to imply that you would care." I was thankful to see her shed in the distance. I waited until we were closer to respond, unceramoniously tossing the treats onto the side of it.

"_Look - _I don't _need_ friends. This town might not even last through the year - I don't know why you're trying to get chummy with me. You think you know me well enough because we've chatted a few times, but you really don't know anything about me at all." She blinked once, then twice - a look of horror then passing over her features and leaving a blank expression in its aftermath.

"...No one _needs_ friends, Neil, but don't you think it would be nice to talk to someone once in a while?" Her voice was quiet and soft, unlike I've ever heard it before. A pang of guilt made my stomach sour a bit, but I ignored it.

"You don't know me. I have - " I floundered for a moment, then continued: "I _have_ people I can talk to." Yeah. Like, the one. The one guy, that guy at work. Rod. Sort of. We were...Friends. Acquaintances. Whatever.

"Oh yeah? Where?"

"At work." I answered triumphantly. She seemed a little stricken at that answer.

"...Oh. Well, in all fairness I was just trying to make the best out of a difficult situation. And - And maybe _you_ don't believe this town can recover, but I do. I was just hoping to have someone like me to talk to, but I guess I was stupid for thinking that."

I shifted uncomfortably again. "...Someone like you?" I asked carefully. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"..." She stared at the pile of treat bags on the ground beside her shed, then raised her eyes to me. She dropped her quarry beside the one I had discarded.

"...You're different. I don't know if you realize this, but_ you_ were the only one who didn't immediately balk at my appearance. I'm sure you had your own personal thoughts that you kept to yourself, but you didn't make a big deal about it. I really appreciated that." It was her turn to shift uncomfortably. "...Truth be told, I was really happy that you treated me like an adult and listened whenver I went off on a tangent about all the stuff I wanted to do around the farm." Her face turned into a mask of anguish, and another pang of guilt hit me. "I don't have anyone to really talk to around here. But if you really don't want to be friends, that's okay. I understand."

I stood there, shell-shocked and dumbfounded.

I had _meant_ to harden myself against her friendliness, but I hadn't ever considered she had want of friends here. She was nice to everyone, it seemed like she had acquaintances - and while I regarded her machinations as nothing more than a futile effort, it seems I was...Missing vital pieces of information.

Her expression changed into one of determination and irritation. "Look, if you're going to be a big-diaper-baby, maybe I don't need a douche-nozzle like _you_ as a friend. I just figured, because you seem to be a hermit at the ripe ol' age of - what, 23? "

I nodded awkwardly that she was correct.

" - Yeah, 23 - That - Well, I figured that - since you never seem sociable - maybe you just needed someone to talk to. I don't know if you noticed this, but I'm basically your only friend in the whole town. - But if you just wanna wallow in your own negativity, then - then - I don't need that!" She thrust her finger into my collarbone, and she angrily invaded my personal space. "Listen, I'm willing to give you another chance, so you come talk to me when you're not being such a dillweed, and then _maybe_ I'll reconsider how I feel about you. Not that I expect you _care_ \- but still. Got it?"

" - Uh - ?"

"Good." She nodded, somehow satisified with my answer (though it probably didn't matter), and stomped off towards her house. She slammed her front door, and I was left standing by myself next to her shed.

I walked, confused, back to my shop - and pondered on our interaction for the rest of the afternoon.

* * *

I hated to say it, but I sure felt like I had egg on my face.

It was less about the fact that I had been, perhaps, a bit rude - I mean, let's face it, I've had enough blunders in my lifetime like that it hardly even affected me anymore. No, it had been more about what she _said_.

Wallow in my own negativity?

I didn't particularly consider myself an _optimistic _person, of course, but I never thought of myself as being down-right negative.

I was a _realist_.

I tried to think logically, compare my experiences to past ones and move forward from there. Who could blame me for how I felt about the town's renovation? Any sane person would realize that the idea, while a hopeful one, was largely unobtainable unless through a miracle or straight up divine intervention. Things didn't just _magically_ get better like they did in stories, and there was more than enough reason to suspect that it would turn sour.

If I was being honest with myself...

Largely, my views had been to keep myself from getting my hopes up and suffering the disappointment of failure. Truth be told, I really liked this town. I loved my job, and I loved being so far away from the city. Did I wish for Dunhill to be right? Of course. But what could one, or two, or anyone do to turn this around? It didn't help that his place actually reminded me of my own hometown - but failing here meant I'd have to go back with there, my parents - and that was the _last_ thing I wanted to do.

I had learned long ago not to place all my ducks in a row before counting them, and having hope that the town would somehow be saved from this crisis, even with everyone helping, was asking me to do exactly that. I had to plan ahead, make sure I had some sort of security. Putting my faith into some girl I didn't know or into the rest of the townspeople (of which, you remember, had only been three others besides Alice and I - including an elderly woman that could not do much in her old age!) to somehow bring us into prosperity.

I had to admit, as the weeks waned on and summer flew past - there were glimmers of hope that I refused to latch onto. Sure, more people had moved in, but how long would they stay? Business was slow, and most were probably not making any money at all. I sure as hell wasn't doing great. It was tough to make ends meet, even with outside sources of income.

Things were difficult, to say the least.

But I couldn't help but start to believe that maybe _something_ good could happen. As summer waned, a man came and wanted to open a restaurant. Alice built him one. A doctor came by, said we needed a clinic. Alice built him one. A woman came by, said we needed a newspaper and mail service. Alice built her a post office and an apartment above it, and then helped her source a printing press and helped her bring it into town.

Alice got things done, and I couldn't help but admire that.

But at the cost of what? She was always moving, running, back and forth - it was dizzying. Sometimes I felt like _I_ should be doing more, but the feeling always quickly passed. I had no time, and I knew that.

And so it was that I decided to talk to someone about the whole situation.

There was a man close to my age named Rod who worked with me, but in a different department. The one job overlap we had was _horses_. So I saw him around more than a few times.

We didn't speak often - but he _did_ go out of his way to greet me occassionally, and sometimes our lunch schedules would match up if we so happened to have a work-on-site day at the same time. He was easy to talk to because he was eager to listen. I didn't particularly _like_ the man - he was too cheery for my taste - but I would consider him an aquaintance if forced to answer how I felt about him. At the very least, it was always refreshing to have someone to talk to that didn't make me feel totally drained afterwards.

He always seemed excited and personable, and he seemed to notice I was having an issue and offered to listen. I didn't _really_ want to share anything with him, but I thought it prudent to gain another perspective.

So I told him about what was going on, how useless I felt, and how her words had affected me.

* * *

"...I don't know, I feel like maybe...I _should_ help...Like, if everyone works together, we can make this thing happen, but the reality is that I'm either here, at my shop, or doing paperwork and filling orders. The little free-time I get is precious, and I _need_ it to de-stress. If I don't have a little bit of time to myself, I'd have a nervous breakdown...Or...Something." I mumble, bringing my cup of coffee to my face. I had to mentally prepare myself for each drink as I was not really a fan of it. I didn't _hate_ coffee, I just simply didn't care much for it. It was, however, Goddess-sent during rough, early mornings like this one.

It was a little nerve-wracking to share my feelings on something with somebody else, opening myself up to judgement like that, but Rod seemed eager to help.

I swallow the bitter liquid with some easily disguised distaste and wait for him to respond.

"...Well, it sounds like she's probably tired. Maybe you should do something kind - you know, to apologize!" His eyes lit up, and I grimaced.

"...Apologize? For what, exactly?"

"...Well, for being so mean before, right?"

"Hm." _Okay, yeah, sure._

"And it'll also be a gesture of support. If she's doing a lot around in your town, the least you can do is thank her."

"...But then she might think I want to be _friends_, or something."

Being nice to someone doesn't neccessarily mean you want to be friends or anything, Neil. And besides - what's wrong with making friends?"

I didn't answer that.

There were lots of reasons why I liked to keep to myself.

Most notably - I was a very private person, and the friendlier you got with people, the more they thought they could stick their nose in your business without your consent.

I shifted uncomfortably, taking another gulp of coffee to chase away exhaustion."...So you think I should - what, exactly? _Buy_ her something?"

"Yeah." He shrugged, as if what he was saying was immediately obvious. "-Or - or you _could_ make her something. Buuuuut - It doesn't really matter, in the long run, it's the thought that counts."

"...Yeah, but...I don't even know what she likes."

"Well, maybe you don't have to, right? I mean - Try to give her something that will help her out. Something to boost her energy, or help her relax after a long day's work, you know? Something like that. I'm sure she'll appreciate it~" He grins, elbowing me in the side. "And what's better than making a pretty girl smile, right?"

I avoid answering by guzzling down the last bit of coffee, then further my silence by taking my time to throw the cheap paper cup in the bin.

"...Well, you've definitely given me food for thought, at the very least." I admit, "...I guess I see your point. I'll think of something."

"Great! Glad I could be of help!"

* * *

"...Uh...I wanted...To say that I...Apologize...For, uh, how I behaved the other day." I held out the gift-wrapped box to her. (Rod insisited on the gift-wrap, of course.) My hands shook a little, and I hated it. She glanced up, ruby-colored eyes wide and disbelieving.

"That's for me?" I felt a flash of irritation immediately overcome me.

"Why else would I be holdin' it out to you?" I snapped. Thankfully she didn't recoil - instead, she opened her door a bit wider and smiled sheepishly. Color rose to her pale cheeks, and I felt my heart flutter in my chest.

"...Ah, well, I sort of owe you an apology, too."

"...Huh? What are you...Talking about?"

"Well...I assumed a few things, a bit unfairly - might I add - and it upset you. And...I really...Embarrassed myself. I put some of my...Uh..._Issues_ on you that you didn't need to know about, so - I don't know if I feel right about accepting your gift." I lowed my arms dejectedly, the gift nearly toppling out of my hands. Why the hell did I do all this, then?

"Uh, okay...?" I frowned. "Uh, well, you should take it anyway, because you always seem to work hard, and you're always busy, so I figured...It'd be nice...To get you a little something." Her eyes seemed to visibly soften, long lashes fanning against her cheek as she blinked in what I read as confusion.

"Oh? That's - that's awfully nice of you. Uh, okay - " I handed her the box and she grinned. "Thanks!"

I was too embarrassed to watch her open the gift, so I made it a point to start backing away from her porch as soon as I could. I shoved my hands into my pockets to appear nonchalant."Uh, so I guess I'll see you around...?"

She practically beamed, clutching the box to her chest. "Uh, sure. Thanks again!"

I forced myself to walk normally, tried to keep calm and level, but as soon as I was out of sight, I practically sprinted home.

Ah, I hecked up. I shouldn't have listened to Rod. He was way too optimistic and naive. She probably thought I _liked_ her or something. Not that I didn't think she was alright, or pretty, it's just -

Bad things like this had happened before. I became friendly with someone either due to circumstances or forced politeness, they think we're friends, and some even develop - _Other feelings._ And it got awkward. And it became a big mess. I've had to deal with that situation more than a few times with decidedly lacking social expertise, and it _never_ ended well. Sometimes there was crying. There was always cringing on my part, at least - and then people became strangers.

And there was something horrible about Alice that made me..._Not_...Want us to be strangers.

I didn't really know what that meant, because I had already decided that anything more than acquaintances was both tiring and unnecessary, as well as dangerous.

We would just have to wait and see.


	4. Chapter 4

"So, I got a letter this morning."

I looked up and raised my eyebrows at the man before me. His expression was a mix between nervousness and excitement. When he didn't continue, I scrambled to come up with something to say in response.

"Oh, yeah? Uh, good...For you...?" I blinked up at him, and he seemed to deflate slightly. He was wringing his hands while he sat down across from me, drawing his lunchbox onto the table with some hidden caution. The silence grew awkward between us quickly as he simply looked into my face - as if expecting more from me.

"...Well, aren't you going to ask me what was _in_ the letter?" He finally said, a little anxious. I stare at him, deadpan.

"Did you...Want me to?" I ask, failing to hide my grimace.

"Uh, yes." He shifted uncomfortably, freckled cheeks starting to stain pink. I stared at him a bit longer so that he could tell I was annoyed. He could just _tell_ me, at this point. Why fake an organic interaction? It defeated the whole purpose.

"...What...Uh, what...Was...In the letter, Rod?" He breathed a sigh of relief, as if he had needed permission to vent what was bothering him.

"SO! I open up the letter, and it's from this guy called Dunhill and - "

"Dunhill?"

"Yeah. You know him, as I understand it?"

"Yeah. He's sort of the...Community leader where I live."

"Echo, right?" It was my turn to shift uncomfortably in my seat. I suddenly lost my appetite and pushed my lunch away.

"Yes, actually. What did he say in the letter?"

"Long story short - "

"_Please_." I interrupted quietly, which Rod ignored.

"- He offered me a job." I blinked a few times in the silence that reigned between us, gathering my thoughts. This was a significant development. Did Dunhill mean to replace me? After everything I put up with in the past few years?

Perhaps I had been too difficult. Maybe I just wasn't cut out to perform my more social tasks as a shop keeper. Maybe -

"He wants me to open up a pet shop. Thinks maybe it can increase visitation to the town. I was recommended by one of the higher ups because I'm young and don't have a family I'd have to uproot to move into town. The best part is - I _know_ someone who lives there. Do you know Allen?"

"Yeah, I know of him. He's - **Wait**." I held up my hands. "A..._Pet_ shop?" I let go of the breath I hadn't been aware I had been holding. "I see. That's interesting." Rod gave me a strange look, as if I had grown a second head.

"...Did you think Dunhill wanted to replace you? The guy practically gushed about you in the letter he sent me."

"He did _what _now?" I felt embarrassment creep in my chest, making me flush.

"Well, like, how you're such a hard worker, and how he appreciates that you stuck with the town even though things were going belly-up. That sort of stuff." He shrugged. "Anyways, I thought I ought to tell you that I was considering taking up the offer. I've been looking for a new place to move, anyhow, and I think it's a pretty good opportunity. AND I think it'll be really neat to live in the same town as you and my other friend!"

_Other_ friend. Meaning he thought _I _was -

I ignored that part. "I mean, if you want to - I guess. I'm not sure why it matters what I think."

"Don't you think it's exciting!? We can walk to work together, and we'll be able to hang out more!"

I laughed nervously against his bare-faced delight. He was always so expressive that it almost felt faked. "...Ahaha, yeah, I guess."

"...You're not happy about this, are you?" He frowned suddenly, and I instantly felt guilt gnawing at my insides. I tried to remedy it, my voice easily betraying my dismay at his reaction.

"Is that what you think? I - I'm just, you know, surprised, that's all. I think it's, uh, it's great. You know? I mean..." I breathed out, tried to steady myself. He waited patiently, and I appreciated it. "...It just...Takes me a bit longer than a few moments to adjust to new things. It's certainly a big change. Not a bad one, I think."

"So you're okay with this? If I say yes to Dunhill, I mean." I pulled on my collar nervously and avoided eye contact.

"...Well, Yeah. You don't need_ my_ approval, do you?" I laughed, the anxiousness clearly bleeding into it.

He shrugged. "It'd be nice. You _are_ my friend -"

Ah. Yes. That again. It made sense, but it was strange for someone to just _call_ me their friend - without ceremony or anything. I didn't have the most prolific list of them in the past, and I wasn't sure if this was how it always happened - or if it was just a quirk of the man in front of me.

He continued, "- I like your input and approval. Especially about stuff like this."

I looked into his face. He was honest and had always been kind to me. Would it be so horrible to call him a friend?

My brain is screaming that..._YES! It would be!_ -But I don't see any immediate harm...My panic isn't logical, and I try to shove it out of my forethought.

"...Right." I say, a bit distractedly - "Well, I think the change of pace will be...Refreshing. Goddess knows Echo needs more people, at the least." He brightened considerably, obviously understanding this was my roundabout way of accepting and coming to terms with the whole thing.

"You think so?" Rod grinned briefly at me before he pulled me into an awkward embrace. "Oh, this is going to be so fun!" I resisted against him a bit but eventually resigned myself to the hug. I tried to feign reciprocation by patting him lightly on his back.

"...Right, right - " I mumbled. Finally, he pulled away from me. I forced myself to give him a smile - just so that he might change the subject. It didn't really work - he began to rant about all the things he wanted to do when he moved, and I was forced to listen to him for the remainder of lunch.

But, that wasn't so bad.

* * *

I don't know when it suddenly became so easy, or so routine, but somehow I had grown...What was the world? Ah. Yes. _Complacent._

It was almost a schedule, something expected - I would walk with Alice, arms full of supplies, from the town plaza where my shop was set up all the way to the shed on her farm - and she would just..._Talk_. About anything and nothing. And I found myself_ enjoying_ her company, looking forward to the chats; The way her voice lilted when she asked a hypothetical question, or when her voice would lower a pitch when ranting about something she was frustrated about.

Somehow, she had effortlessly barreled through all my defenses without my noticing - without any alarms having been set off. Well, that wasn't _entirely_ true, I fought her tooth and nail the whole way;But after a certain point I had either grown numb to the panic or simply accepted my fate sub-consciously.

It wasn't that I was eager for friendship, or that I even thought it was a good idea - far from that. But, somehow, there came an unknown turning point that I simply threw myself into apathy. I didn't want to ask myself the horrible question I constantly held in the back of my mind - _What's the Worst That Could Happen?_ \- because I knew the answer, and I didn't want to face that reality quite yet. Truth be told, I was okay, for once, and she never made me feel like I was over-extending myself.

She was different from Rod in that she would talk _at_ me but never expected a response. Not like she thought I wasn't listening, nor was it dismissive, but she spoke in such a way as to fill all silences that made me doubt my social aptitude or ponder meaningless answers to questions she would never ask. It was this breathless sort of cadence that made me feel dizzy and exhilarated and informed all at once without making me feel tired or overwhelmed. She wasn't even particularly _excited_ like Rod spoke, it was simply a strange sort of light passion that touched each vowel and syllable that kept me fully attentive on each word she spoke.

I realized all this in a moment of conversation, much like what I described, and it felt akin to being punched directly in the stomach, right in that sweet-spot between the ribs. I recognized that horrible warm feeling creeping into my intestines, worming its way through my innards like an unwanted parasite.

It caught me off guard. It was..._Delight_, I suppose, though the word doesn't exactly fit.

She smiled at me, a true smile - the kind that made her eyes crinkle at the corners and her nose scrunch up a bit - and it made me feel _something_ and it almost stopped me in my tracks. I almost tripped, feeling the world sway beneath my feet and my perception of the armored facade I had thought I had built between us come crashing down.

Alice had effected me way more thoroughly than I thought.

And it frightened me, in a sick, wide-spread way - like a sweeping horror, the kind that made you _feel_ the blood rush from your face and retreat from your limbs like hands against a hot stove. It was a tingly fear, the kind that made butterflies nest directly in your organs and tickle your entrails. A creeping sort of angst, mixed with a flurry of shame and embarrassment drew upon me like a shadow and pounced suddenly at _that_ moment - at that _very_ moment, when she looked at me and made that smile -

I realized I had been talking so easily with her, and I hadn't even noticed that we had come this far in just a few short weeks. It felt like the whole world shifted violently, pausing reality for a nanosecond to re-calibrate, but her smile never fell and her eyes never flickered and betrayed another emotion. I did not trip, and I kept my feeling to myself. I broke eye contact and clammed up a little, but if she noticed she didn't say anything.

I was too disturbed, too horrified at myself for not _paying attention_ \- terrified that somehow this was _wrong_ and it would end badly. I convinced myself that whatever had happened just then was some sort of glitch, some sort of hallucination or day-dream on my part, and it wouldn't happen again. But then I looked at her again, her voice just as sing-song and never-ending and I realized that I was terribly wrong. It was _still_ happening and it would _continue_ to keep happening unless I stopped it -

But I didn't want to stop it.

And that's what was the most terrifying of all.


End file.
